Page 39 of Cannon

Once we were inside, he looked around my apartment as if he were checking for intruders and then stepped closer to me. His energy was nothing like Cannon’s. In fact, I had never felt anything close to what Cannon made me feel from Javi.

“Queen…”

“Don’t.” I held up a hand, stopping whatever apology or excuse he was about to feed me.

“You said you wanted to do right by ZaZa. So talk. What’s that look like to you?”

Javi settled onto my couch without being invited, spreading his legs wide in that way men did when they wanted to take up space. He was still handsome. I’d give him that. Still had that smooth caramel skin and those dimples that used to make me forget how to think straight. But now all I saw when I looked at him was wasted potential and broken promises.

“I want to be more involved,” he started, then reached down to scratch at his left calf through his pants.” She’s been having those episodes, and I know you been handling it alone. That ain’t fair to either of you.”

The gesture was so casual, so unconscious, that it took me a second to register what I was seeing. But once I did, a slow smile spread across my face. The first genuine smile I’d felt all night.

“It still bothers you,” I said.

“What?”

“Your leg. Right there.” I nodded toward where his hand was still absently rubbing.

“Where I put that bullet in you. It still itches you?”

Javi’s hand stilled. For a moment, something flickered across his face. It was shame and embarrassment. Then he cleared his throat and tried to play it off.

“Sometimes. When it’s about to rain. Old wounds, you know how it is.”

I moved to the window, looking out at the city lights that never went completely dark.

“You remember that night? I came home early from the club because I didn’t feel good. I think I had food poisoning. Nori covered for me. I walked in on you and that red bone bitch from your precinct.”

I could see his reflection in the window glass, saw him shift uncomfortably on my couch. Good. Let him squirm.

“Right there in our bedroom. The bed where we made our daughter. You had her bent over the dresser, going at it like you didn’t have a wife and child who loved you.” The memory tasted like poison, but I kept talking anyway. “You know what the fucked up part was? Y’all didn’t even stop when I walked in. Took a whole five seconds before you noticed me standing there.”

“I was drunk?—”

“You were selfish.” I turned back to face him, and he had the decency to look ashamed. “But you know what? I wasn’t even thinking about that when I went to the safe and got my gun. All I could think about was how much I loved that bed and would never be able to sleep in it again. They stopped making those mattresses and I haven’t found anything like it since.

“So I shot your ass. Right in the leg. Wanted to put one in your dick and then your brain, but I figured ZaZa still needed a father, even a trifling one.” I took another sip, savoring the burn. “And you know what you did? You told everybody, the doctors, the cops, your captain, that it was a robbery gone wrong. Covered for me so I wouldn’t catch charges.”

Javi was quiet now, his hand unconsciously moving back to that spot on his calf. The spot where my bullet had torn through muscle and tendon and left him with a permanent reminder of what happened when you betrayed Queen Marie Davenport.

“That was the only time you ever did right by me,” I said, my voice softer now but no less cutting. “The only time you put our family first instead of your own selfish wants.”

Javi cleared his throat. “I know I fucked up. I know I can’t take any of it back. But ZaZa needs stability right now.”

“She’ll have it right here with me. You can help out with some cash and maybe find a job for her. She needs to stay occupied. Also help with paying for one of those Manhattan therapists. Stop ignoring the fact that she’s sick. Spend some time with her. She’s not a little girl anymore but she will always be your baby girl.”

“I’ll do all of that,” he said confidently.

I was still skeptical about the change of heart he was having. I’d make sure to never let him come up here again. I didn’t trust Javi. I know he still wanted me because well, look at me. He fumbled me and ever since then I’ve never let another man in.

“Since you here talking about doing right,” I said, my voice carefully neutral, “I need you to do something for me.”

Javi’s eyebrows raised slightly. “What kind of something?”

“I need you to look into someone. Alfred Dixon from Rocky Mount, North Carolina.”

“Alfred Dixon,” he repeated slowly. “Why and who is that?”